The Dating Lesson

Reality Hits

Opening the image, I see it’s a picture of his nakedness. The sight of his body instantly makes me shiver. There’s another chime from Sam, the text says: Your turn. I smile. My bed in the dorm room is tiny. It might be even smaller than a twin. Just a step up from a toddler bed and uncomfortable as hell. I just moved into my dorm today and it doesn’t feel like home yet. It’s still pretty bare bones, with just my clothes hanging in the closet, my books and laptop piled up on the desk, and my sheets in a pile at the foot of the bed. I met my new roommate Brenna this morning. She seems nice enough, though I haven’t really had the chance to get to know her. She’s already diving into the campus party scene tonight, and I have the room to myself. We plan to have coffee tomorrow morning before our first classes start so we can try to connect. That’s hopeful, that she wants to get to know me. If we’re going to be living together for the next year, it’ll be nice if we’re friends, too. Since Brenna is gone, and I’m pretty sure she’ll be out for a while still, I strip down to nothing from the waist down, I rush to the bathroom, take a night dress and snap a picture, kind of attractive and forward it to him. I smirk, knowing he’s going to love seeing it. Seconds later he texts again. "Wow, gorgeous body. Never seen one like that before." Send me a video. I want to see your lips as you talk. I set up my camera on my dresser. It’s hard to get the right angle, but I manage by stacking it on a couple of books and positioning myself just right on the edge of the pillow. “Hey,” I say for the camera. “I’m sorry you can’t be here in person.” “Do you see what you do to me? Your picture made me so crazy." The minutes tick by and still no response. I wonder if he’s watching it over and over. Almost ten minutes go by and I think maybe he didn’t get it. I frantically think to check my phone to make sure I sent it to him and not, heaven forbid, my mom, but just then I receive another text from him and this time it’s a video. Just then I hear a key slide into the lock of my dorm door. I hurry and shut off the video and throw my blanket over myself. There’s no time to turn off the video, so it continues to record as my roommate walks through the door. 

“Hey Kimmy,” she says.   

“Brenna,” I say. Normally a surprise like this would instantly turn me off and take me out of the mood, but it didn't. “I thought you weren’t going to be here tonight,” I say. 

She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Expecting someone special?”  

“Something like that.”  

“Well, don’t worry. I won’t block you. I just stopped by to grab some staffs. If you ever need any in a pinch, my top drawer is full of them.”  

“Thank you.”  

She grabs a handful and leaves. I pick up the phone and find several texts from Sam wondering where I disappeared to. I text him back and tell him the whole ridiculous story. We joke around for a while, and then text about other things. He tells me about a show he’s watching which leads to us exchanging stories about family vacations from our childhoods. Through all of these exchanges, I feel like I’m getting to know him better and better. It’s nice that he still likes to talk even after we both come. For most guys that seems to be their only goal. Once they get off, they’re done. He may be a stranger still, but more and more he feels like a real friend. The more I get to know him, the more I like him. I find myself thinking about him all the time even when we’re not texting. Eventually it’s time to say goodnight. He has to work early in the morning, and I have early classes. I want to be well rested and prepared for my first day of classes tomorrow. By the time I put my phone down and change into my pajamas, my eyes feel weighed down by weights. Luckily, after that amazing moment, I sleep like a baby. The next morning, Brenna and I go out for coffee at the campus café. It’s six in the morning, an hour before our first classes. As we walk into the coffee shop, quite a few people look over at us. We do make an odd pair. This morning, Brenna is wearing a short black mini dress, fishnet stockings, and boots. Her hair is dyed black and red and she has piercings in her nose, lips, and eyebrows. Her appearance is a stark contrast compared to my own. I’m the all American girl next door type with my straight blond hair, jeans, tank top, and Vans. We don’t seem to have much in common, but if we are going to be living together, we’re going to have to find some common ground. 

“So, a lawyer, huh?” she says as she takes a bite of her poppy seed muffin. Even her coffee is as wild as she is with six shots of espresso and black as night compared to my vanilla latte with extra sweet cream.

“That’s the plan anyway. I’ve been working my whole life to get good grades in school. Valedictorian of junior high, high school, and community college.”

Brenna laughs. “They have a valedictorian for junior high and community college?”

“Yep. I even got the presidential award.” Now it just sounds like I’m bragging, but I’m proud of my accomplishments.

“What about your boyfriend or girlfriend—whatever your preference is—how did they feel about you being such a bookworm?”

“Never really had time for relationships.”

She raises a pierced eyebrow. “So you’re a prude?” she says jokingly.

I can see why it looks that way. Clearly she didn’t realize I had a vibrator inside of me and was about to come while she stood in front of me last night. I’m far from a prude, and if she saw the videos and texts I was sending Sam last night she would know. But I shrug and let her think what she wants. I don’t need piercings and fishnets to be wild.

“What about you?” I ask. “Any significant other?”

She gives me a coy smile. “I get around. I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve got enough going on with my course work, and besides, these are my prime years. I’m just trying to have fun. There will be plenty of time to get serious later on.” We talk about school. I’m surprised to learn she’s a graduate student in biology, focusing on botany. But then she tells me her goal is to own a m*******a dispensary and natural apothecary one day, and it starts to make sense. She’s also taken a couple of classes in the law school, since her future the m*******a business is regulated so tightly, and she needs to have some understanding of the law. We talk a bit about professors and classes. We don’t have much else in common, and yet we get along. I don’t think we’ll ever hang out socially, but at least I don’t feel like we’ll have any conflicts or issues living together. She takes her schoolwork fairly seriously, I guess, and since she’s here on a scholarship, I know she at least had to have the grades and drive to earn that. And she’ll need to keep her grades up if she wants to maintain the scholarship. As long as she doesn’t get in my way, I won’t get in hers. I look at my watch and realize there are only five minutes until my first class starts.

“Oh my God,” I say, not realizing we’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. “I’m going to be late.”

“Where’s your first class?” Brenna asks.

“Greyson Building.”

“You better run, then. That’s all the way on the other side of the campus.”

“s**t!” I say, grabbing up my cup and making a quick dash to the door. “I’ll see you later,” I shout over my shoulder as I start hightailing it across the quad.

People stare at me as I run across campus. I’m glad I chose to wear my Vans instead of dressing up a little and wearing the cute little kitten heels I considered this morning. I make it to the building and search through my bag for my schedule, trying to figure out which lecture hall my class is in. The building is massive! I dash up the stairs taking them two by two, and sprint down the hall until I see the large oak doors to the hall. I’m eight minutes late. I feel miserable. I hate being late for anything, and the first class? This is horrible. I take a deep breath, smooth down my hair, and walk in, hoping my late entrance can go unnoticed. But as soon as I walk through the door, everyone shifts in their seats and looks straight at me. I look around at all the people making eye contact with me and want to shrink into the background.

“Good morning,” says a deep, powerful voice from the lectern at the front of the lecture hall. I look at the man and my heart cartwheels in my chest.

No. It can’t be.

Oh God, it is.

My professor is tall and gorgeous with deep-set green eyes and a head of thick chestnut hair. He’s none other than Sam, the man who has not only been sexting me for the last few days, but also made me come hard last night watching a video of him jerking off. This can’t be happening. Is it possible he won’t recognize me?

“Take a seat, please,” he says with a hint of irritation. I must have interrupted his lecture. This is humiliating. How is this even possible? I have the worst luck! I hang my head and walk down the middle aisle, looking left and right for a seat that I can slide into easily. Finally I see an open seat that won’t require too many people to stand up to let me pass, and I mumble excuse me a few times as I slide past the other students to take my seat. I try to slouch down in my seat and become invisible, but I mustn’t be inconspicuous enough because Sam's eyes remain on me. I can feel his gaze burning my skin. Luckily, the rest of the class seems to move on and they totally forget about the flaky girl who strolled in late. That is, everyone except the boy sitting next to me. 

“Epic,” he whispers, smiling at me. I roll my eyes. I’m not in a joking mood. He holds out his hand for me to shake. “Jaime.”

I want to tell him to leave me alone and not draw any more attention to me, but I’m not the kind of person who is comfortable with being openly rude, so I shake his hand quickly.

“Kimmy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

I glance up at Professor Sam (Professor Whitford, as it’s written up on the white board like teachers do in middle school), and he’s still watching me. Any hope that I had that he wouldn’t recognize me starts to disappear the longer he stares at me. I feel my cheeks my burning, and I practically feel like I could combust from embarrassment as every second ticks by, ridiculously slowly, on the clock at the front of the hall. Then he smirks at me and all hopes are squashed.

I try to focus on the lecture, but I’m struggling. I flip open my laptop and start to take notes, but every time I pause and look up and catch Sam’s eyes, I lose my train of thought. Everything I’m writing is gibberish. After a few minutes, I give up entirely on notetaking and just try to absorb as much as I can from the lecture. I’ll have to reread the chapter we’re covering later tonight. This has never happened to me before. I’ve always been the perfect student who other people come to if they’ve missed class or need more details from a lesson. I just hope there isn’t some kind of pop-quiz at the end of this class. I’m a stressed out mess throughout the class, and the coy, stern look Sam keeps giving me makes me think he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on me. This is not good. I’m so close to becoming a lawyer. I graduated at the top of my class, even. I can’t have any distractions messing this up for me. This is my entire future on the line. My family’s future if I want to clear my dad and brother and finally get them the justice they deserve. I’ve worked too hard to get to where I’m at to let anything ruin my chances. An affair with my professor could derail everything I’ve worked so hard for. Gossip and rumors are enough to destroy someone’s career. Throw in social media and I could ruin my reputation before I ever set foot in a courtroom.

I have to resist any urge I have to keep texting with him. As soon as my class is over, I’ll delete his number, block him, and get rid of any proof that we ever knew each other at all. No guy is worth the risk. Even if he is one of the funniest, sexiest guys I’ve met in a very long time.

I bend my head and get to work, reading through a case that he’s just assigned, instructing us to identify at least two flaws in the lawyer’s argument. I try to get everything else out of my mind except for the task at hand. As I reach into my bag to grab a highlighter, I feel my phone vibrate. I grab it and see there’s a text. Opening it, my heart seems to simultaneously float and sink at the same time.

The text is from Sam. My stomach twists in knots when I look up at him. He sits at his desk, reading the case study like the rest of us, not paying any attention to me. I start to question whether this really is the same Sam I’ve been texting with. He looks just like the pictures. And he was looking at me in the strangest way. But why is he texting me in class? My head is spinning. I open the text.

You look amazing in that dress. 

I swallow hard, my breathing becoming shallow and try to calm myself down.

Glancing up, I see that he’s staring right at me. He winks and my whole body goes warm. Well, that answers that question. He’s definitely the same person.  I throw my phone back into my purse and try to put my dirty thoughts to the back of my mind. This class will be over soon enough, and then I can take the time to figure out what I’m going to do about this situation. Finally, a tone rings out from the speaker, and class is officially over. Sam shouts out some last minute instructions for how to prepare for the next class, and as I walk up the aisle toward the exit, Jaime, the boy who was sitting next to me, tries to talk to me. He’s interrupted, though, and I hear my name called from the front of the hall. Sternly, Sam says, “Kimmy, please stay behind and have a seat.” 

Jaime shrugs, looking sorry for me. “Busted.”

I sigh, my nerves completely frayed as I wonder what Sam will say to me. “Guess that’s what I get for being late,” I say to Jaime, and wave a weak goodbye to him as I walk back down the aisle to Sam.

I sit down in the front row, across from Sam’s lectern where he still stands, waiting for the last students to trickle out of the lecture hall. When the room is finally empty, he walks back up the long aisle, closes the doors, and I hear a click. He’s locked them. I hear his heavy footsteps coming back to the front of the hall, but my eyes are fixed on the whiteboard at the front of the room. I have no idea what to anticipate, and I feel like if I can avoid his eyes, maybe this whole mess will just magically disappear. Finally, though, he’s back at the front of the room, leaning against the desk set up next to the lectern. I have no choice. I look up. From his super hip shoes, up his muscular legs and chest, eventually being brave, and looking him square in the eyes. I take a deep breath.  

“Look, obviously I didn’t know you were teaching this class,” I try to explain. “I didn’t even know you were a professor.”  

“You’re in big trouble Ms. Stevens,” he says, cutting me off mid-sentence.

I’m shocked to hear him say my last name since I’ve never told him. Then I realize my name is on his roster. He has access to my records. Anything the college has on record about me, he could know, too. I wonder if that’s what he was reading the whole time we were working on our assignments. I feel so naked and exposed, but not in a good way.

He stands in front of me, tall and beautiful, and domineering. He leans forward away from the desk until his eyes are level with mine. He smiles, knowing I was staring at his body.

“I don’t like when people are tardy. My classes are in high demand. There’s a wait list, you know?”

My pulse quickens. I want to resist him, but every part of my body aches to be touched by him.